


The Scrivener's Dilemma

by verflixt



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Again Catherine of Aragon goes by both Catherine and Catalina in this fic, Biting, Catalina as her real modern reincarnated self, Catherine as her in-roleplay Queen Catherine persona, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hair-pulling, Historical Roleplay, Power Dynamics, Scratching, Wax Play, kink negotiated offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verflixt/pseuds/verflixt
Summary: “Will you be retiring for the evening, My Queen?” Anne asks.“Shortly.” Catherine tips her head, as if weighing her next words. “There remains one more note to be dealt with. I’m sure you can guess my meaning.”Catherine had been uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn all evening; Anne might almost have described her as sullen, though displaying open displeasure is of course beneath the dignity of a woman like the Queen. Anne has a sinking feeling she might know what the older woman is driving at.“No, I’m afraid I don’t, My Queen,” Anne responds mildly.-------Queen Catherine is displeased that Anne has continued to exchange flirtatious letters with Henry since the affair between the two women has begun. They reach a compromise of sorts.(This work is sort of a sequel in the spirit of "Quia Respexit Humilitatem Ancilla Suae (For She Has Regarded the Lowliness of Her Handmaiden)", but can be read alone.)
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	The Scrivener's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> As noted in the summary, this work is a sort-of sequel to "Quia Respexit Humilitatem Ancilla Suae (For She Has Regarded the Lowliness of Her Handmaiden)" in the same format, meaning the first part is a roleplay scenario between the modern/Six-verse Anne and Catalina.

“...However, I will cease writing you a longer letter, except praying you that from time to time I may be participant of your good news. Also, if there be any thing in which I could do you pleasure, I will do it with very good heart. 

Your good sister and cousin, Catherine.”

Queen Catherine nods, satisfied, as Anne finishes reading out the final lines of the letter the Queen had dictated. The two of them are alone in the Queen’s chambers, working to finish her last urgent items of correspondence. Catherine is reclined in a nearby armchair, already bundled into her nightdress, while Anne is seated at her desk.

“It is finished. There are no more letters that must be answered tonight,” Catherine decides. Inwardly, Anne breathes a sigh of relief. She finds taking dictation dull work, and most of the letters Catherine asks her to pen are polite, perfunctory notes of little consequence. She quickly dries the quill pen and returns it to its case and stoppers the inkwell.

“Will you be retiring for the evening, My Queen?” Anne asks.

“Shortly.” Catherine tips her head, as if weighing her next words. “There remains one more note to be dealt with. I’m sure you can guess my meaning.”

Catherine had been uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn all evening; Anne might almost have described her as sullen, though displaying open displeasure is of course beneath the dignity of a woman like the Queen. Anne has a sinking feeling she might know what the older woman is driving at.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, My Queen,” Anne responds mildly.

Catherine lets out a sigh, rising from her seat to stride to Anne’s side. She takes a moment to glance over the various letters she had dictated to Anne that evening. Then, suddenly, she seizes a fistful of Anne’s hair and yanks sharply, forcing Anne’s head back to meet her gaze. Anne gasps in pain.

“I thought I made it clear to you, Lady Boleyn, that you are not to entertain my husband’s flirtations,” the Queen hisses.

“I haven’t! And there’s been no opportunity for it regardless, His Majesty being away from court for the last month,” Anne protests.

“No opportunity, hmm? And what would the letters you exchange with my husband be, then?” Catherine traces one finger along Anne’s jawline, idly.

Anne bites her tongue. _Shit._ In her defense, she’s been merely cordial in response to the King’s much more ardently-worded missives. Still, she’d hoped the Queen would remain unaware of their correspondence.

“I could hardly leave his letters unanswered and appear ungrateful… After all, I am only present here in court at his pleasure. I have my family’s reputation to think of,” Anne deflects.

“Oh, and I’m sure it would do your family’s reputation much good if the rest of the court knew about your amorous proclivities,” Catherine muses. Her touch is trailing down Anne’s neck now, and Anne is a little disturbed at the way her nails scrape over the soft skin at her pulse point. Distracted, Anne shakes her head.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, Anne. Your secret is safe with me,” Catherine leans in to whisper in her ear, even as her free hand wraps– teasingly?– threateningly?– around Anne’s throat. “I won’t tell anyone about the kinds of games you like to play. Still, it wouldn’t do to overextend yourself– bedding _one_ sovereign seems like quite enough, in my opinion…” 

“Excuse me?” Anne growls, twitching uncomfortably in Catherine’s iron grip. “ _You_ seduced _me_!”

“And I’m sure everyone will believe you, the upstart maid-of-honor with a weaselly, conniving bureaucrat for a father and a slut of a sister, over the Queen consort renowned for her humility and piety for the last two decades,” Catherine answers wryly, then releases Anne with a contemptuous snort from her grasp.

Anne says nothing and rubs her throat, where a phantom echo of Catherine’s touch still seems to linger.

“Do not resent me, Anne,” Catherine says, voice a little softer, now. “ I will never demand anything from you that you wouldn’t willingly give. Even if you grow tired of me, I will care for you and protect you, speak on your behalf if you find a man you wish to marry. But I cannot have you luring my husband away from me.”

Anne meets Catherine’s gaze. There is nothing pleading in her eyes, of course, or desperate– she is a Queen– but there is a deep weariness that tells Anne this is not the first time Catherine has made this kind of bargain. Not this _exact_ kind, of course, for she would surely have heard rumors if Catherine had other paramours. But other forms of compromises. Compromises to preserve her outward dignity, amidst years and years of scandal and betrayal. Anne doesn’t quite pity her, but her indignation fades.

“I understand,” Anne says grudgingly, after a long silence. “If you can protect me, then I will refuse him.”

"Good." Catalina’s posture relaxes, just slightly. “It would be best to take this opportunity to do so in a letter; his temper will have time to cool before he returns to court.”

“I agree. But…” Anne purses her lips. “You know him best. You should decide what I will say.”

“Very prudent,” Catherine nods approvingly. “We should do it now, since we are seldom alone. And you are already at the desk.” She turns away, making as if to return to the armchair.

“Oh _no_ ,” Anne counters, shaking her head. “I have been scribing your words all evening, and my hand is in cramps. If this is such an urgent matter, you can pen the note yourself.”

Catherine frowns. “He will know my handwriting,” she points out.

“I will take your note and write it out again in the morning. But my fingers are too stiff to take down further dictation tonight.”

Catherine narrows her eyes and regards Anne suspiciously. “You will copy out the letter, and send it tomorrow?”

“Yes. On God’s heart,” Anne affirms seriously.

Catherine sighs. “Very well. If it must be so,” she agrees grudgingly.

Anne rises from her seat, collecting writing tablet, quill pen, penknife, inkwell, and parchment. “No need for you to take my place at the desk, My Queen,” she suggests. “Since you are already attired for sleep and the note will be short, you could write in bed, if you like?”

“Yes, that would suit me,” Catherine agrees, crossing the room and sitting down at the edge of the bed. Anne arranges the writing materials as the queen lies down and settles onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows above the tablet so she can write. Anne sits beside her, leaning attentively over her shoulder as the Queen briefly checks the nib of the pen and then cursorily smooths the parchment with the flat edge of the penknife.

Anne studies Catherine’s face as she begins to write– the slight jut of her chin in thought, the stern set of her mouth, the way her dark eyes reflect the flickering of the candlelight. The queen seems focused and determined, but certainly less tense since the confrontation with Anne was settled in her favor. Experimentally, Anne trails a hand lightly down the Queen’s back, over the surface of her nightgown; the older woman does not acknowledge the touch. Anne shifts to lean over the woman, beginning to lightly rub her shoulders. Still no positive response, but no discouragement, either. Anne grows a little bolder with her caresses, pressing in with her thumbs where she knows the muscles are taut. At that, Catherine finally lets out a little pleased sigh, though her pen continues its steady scratching against the parchment.

Anne massages Catherine’s shoulders for a few minutes before plucking questioningly at the neck of the older woman’s nightdress. Still not speaking, the Queen briefly sets her quill aside to shrug out of the sleeves of the robe, pulling the garment away from her upper body and down around her waist. Anne smiles admiringly at the brief glimpse she catches of Catherine’s bare breasts, but the Queen shoots her a warning glance as she comes to rest on her elbows again.

Anne waits for the older woman to pick up the pen and resume writing. Then, abandoning all pretense of reading over her shoulder, she throws one leg over Catherine’s lower back, settling into a straddle over her. The Queen makes a startled noise of displeasure, but Anne resumes kneading into her shoulders and back, and she eventually relaxes once more. Anne continues working over the tense muscles, Catherine occasionally giving a pleased hum at her efforts. She even lets out a quiet “oh, that’s good, Anne,” as she digs into a particularly tight knot below her shoulder blade.

Eventually, when the Queen is writing busily and is as relaxed as Anne has seen her in recent memory, Anne leans back stealthily to pick up the candle burning in the candleholder at the side of the bed. The taper is quite fresh, still at almost three-quarters of its full length, and Anne regards it for a moment as she grasps it in one hand. She watches as wax liquefies and drips down the length of the candle; experimentally, she holds it up high at the end of her arms’-length and tilts it, letting a drop of the melted wax fall on her thigh. She flinches a little, but does not cry out- painful, but certainly bearable. Perfect.

Anne holds the candle straight, waiting a few seconds to allow more of the liquid to pool at the lip of the taper, then abruptly tips the molten wax onto Catherine’s bare back.

“Ah!” Catherine shrieks as the wax spatters her skin, arching in surprise. Anne stifles a giggle, but is unable to suppress a highly amused smirk. She quickly straightens the candle once more as Catherine half-rolls over, still trapped between Anne’s legs, to face the younger woman, glaring back at her in askance.

“I would not want you to strain your eyes, My Queen. The light should find your page more easily, now,” Anne says innocently. Catherine stares at her reprovingly for a long moment before turning back to her letter.

Anne allows a little of the melted wax that had collected at the end of the candle to spill onto the sheets; best not to overwhelm Catherine all at the beginning. She holds the taper aloft at an angle over the Queen’s back once more, rotating the candle so it drips steadily and evenly over her flesh– well, as much as liquid wax can. Anne does her best.

Catherine lets out a pained hiss at the next few drops of wax, but eventually quiets, continuing to write. Anne moves the candle slowly but continuously, being sure not to linger too long over any one patch of skin. Eventually, however, she decides to test the Queen’s limits; she allows the candle to drip for half a minute over one palm-sized area near the center of Catherine’s back. Anne watches as the muscle begins to twitch and ripple involuntarily in response to the pain, and Catherine eventually lets out a pained mewl. Satisfied, Anne moves on.

The Queen squirms as the wax continues to fall, her back gradually becoming dotted with numerous splotches of white. Anne moves the candle further to the left, along the wax to run in a trail down the side of Catherine’s ribs; she is rewarded with a loud gasp for that. She leaves a number of similar trails down the Queen’s other side, then leans back to admire her work. As she pauses, she realizes that Catherine is rocking her hips slowly but deliberately into the mattress, and her writing has stopped. Anne sets the candle back into the candleholder to lean in to Catherine’s ear.

“Your appearance is most unseemly, My Queen,” Anne whispers, running a finger over a dribble of the cooled white wax. The woman beneath her is flushed and sweating, and her breath comes in quick pants. “I might almost think you are enjoying yourself.”

Anne adjusts her position so she can slide a hand between the Queen’s legs; she does not resist. Instead, Anne’s fingers come away wet with Catherine’s arousal.

“Not to worry, My Queen,” Anne says liltingly. “Your _secret_ is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone about the kinds of _games_ you like to play…”

“Anne,” Catherine says. Anne can tell she means it to sound stern, but her voice cracks slightly. 

“Mmm,” Anne hums in answer, kissing and nipping gently at her neck. Then, she rakes her nails down the reddened, wax-encased flesh of Catherine’s back.

“ _Anne!_ ” Anne has never heard Catherine raise her voice, and the desperate, keening edge to it delights her. She bites harder, and begins sucking a bruise into the flesh of Catherine’s neck.

__“Anne, no marks– they’ll see,” Catherine murmurs weakly._ _

__“And? Who cares,” Anne answers, pulling away for a moment. “Do you really want me to stop?”_ _

__“No.” It comes out as a sigh, and Catherine’s head drops to the side, exposing her neck in a gesture of surrender. Anne chuckles in triumph, and resumes worrying the spot with her teeth until the skin is blotched and red. Dimly she registers Catherine stoppering the inkwell and shoving the writing tablet aside, letter forgotten._ _

__“You want this, don’t you?” Anne asks. Her free hand returns to graze Catherine’s vulva; this time, the Queen whimpers even at the light contact._ _

__“Yes,” Catherine says meekly. As a reward, Anne delves further, skimming up and down over the folds of Catherine’s labia._ _

__“What would your husband say if he could see you like this, making a cuckold of him after twenty years of marriage? He would eat his heart out,” Anne muses. Her fingers eventually settle on Catherine’s clit, gliding easily over the slick flesh. Catherine gasps– because of Anne’s words, or the motion between her legs, Anne can’t be sure._ _

__“I know he’s never made you feel like this. His loss. You deserve the world, Catherine.” Catherine lets out a whine, and she grinds harder into Anne’s hand._ _

__“Think of me next time he takes you to bed, My Queen. Try not to say my name as you finish, if that self-centered brute is even capable of giving you an orgasm–” It almost feels like Anne’s hand had simply slipped downward, two fingers sliding easily inside Catherine’s cunt. The Queen lets out an undignified squeak, but continues rutting against the palm of Anne’s hand._ _

__“C-close,” Catherine stutters._ _

__“You’re close? Mm, perfect. Say my name as you cum, Catherine. Remind me who you really belong to,” Anne purrs._ _

“Anne– Oh, _Anne_ –” Catherine’s shoulders bow as she gives a last jerk of her hips against Anne, and she fists one hand into the sheets with the effort. Anne squeezes her palm into Catherine’s clit, and feels her walls flutter and spasm around her fingers. “Anne, Anne, Anne, Anne…” The older woman continues to chant as she finally slumps forward with relief. Anne waits a few moments, still petting and curling her fingers inside her as her muscles continue to clench, before sliding her hand free. 

__Anne sits back, brushing her hair– now soaked with sweat– out of her eyes. Catherine remains lying face-down for a few moments, catching her breath, before rolling over to look at her._ _

__“Done with your letter?” Anne asks lightly._ _

__Catherine laughs. “Er, I think I’ll have to be,” she says, a little sheepish. “I have more urgent priorities in mind at the moment.”_ _

__“Good.” Anne allows a smirk to light up her face. “You’ve had your fun putting words in my mouth. I’d like to get some use out of yours…”_ _

__________________

“Anne, the sheets are _covered_ in wax. You were supposed to peel it off of me before we fucked!” 

__“I know, I know! It’s just- I got excited...”_ _

__Far from being the type to settle down and relax after a scene, Catalina is already up, pulling a robe on, and insisting that the two of them leave the room and shower before they cuddle. Anne, still hazy with afterglow, sighs as Catalina continues to chatter._ _

“Yes, love, and so did I, but not only have you made a terrific mess, this stuff itches like _crazy_. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me!” 

__“I did too warn you! And I told you to moisturize!” Anne protests._ _

“Well, it didn’t _help_!” 

__Anne has to laugh at the petulance in Catalina’s tone and gives in, finally sitting up._ _

__“Sorry, babe, I’ll take it off first next time. How’s this– you go shower and I’ll change the sheets and clean up, and we can do the aloe cream. That’ll help.”_ _

__“All right,” Catalina grumbles, clearly not sold on the idea of showering alone but eager to have a clean bed to return to. “Just don’t get the wax on the carpet or we’ll spend ages picking it out.”_ _

__“What a fussy little princess,” Anne cooes. “Yes, love. Exactly as you command, so it shall be.”_ _

__“Good. I’ll be back in twenty,” Catalina says, gathering up her towel and striding towards the door._ _

__“Oh, but– one thing…” Anne bites her lip with reluctance. “Be really careful about the wax that got, um… in your hair… Sorry.”_ _

“ _Anne_!" 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> -The close of the letter at the top is from a letter Catherine of Aragon wrote to Queen Claude de Valois.  
> -Catherine's 'nightgown' is more of a wrap-around robe, based on the one depicted in this sketch by Hans Holbein of Anne Boleyn: https://onthetudortrail.com/Blog/2011/08/11/anne-boleyns-nightgown/. Realistically people probably wore something underneath, but shhhhh.  
> -Regarding wax play: as shown here, you should 1) check the temperature of the wax on yourself before you start play, 2) keep the candle a considerable distance away from the surface of the skin you are dripping on (recommendations vary from 1-3 ft.), as well as 3) have done your research beforehand on technique & what your candle is made of!
> 
> Comments & kudos appreciated as always. Thanks y'all!


End file.
